Wicked daughter- Funny Story

Wicked daughter- Funny Story

Like a tiger in a cage, Mr. Kühne strode up and down the living room. He switched off the TV. Too bad the program. Mr. Kühne was worried. It was well over ten in the morning and his daughter, Susy, still had not come home. His wife was not there either. Not even her cell phone had turned her on. Ironically, today was her gossip. She was never there when you needed her. Shared worries are half the worry. Or was it shared suffering?

Of course, sorry. Does not matter. And besides, who was he supposed to blame for the behavior of this brat, who was he bickering with? These women, they have no sense of responsibility! How could his wife react so laxly when it came to talk Susy out of dealing with Mehmet, let alone ban. Of course she was right. Susy did not really have much choice. There were almost only Turks in their school. But Susy could do nothing. They had to move out of this neighborhood, nothing like away from here, away before it was too late.

Yes, and besides, Sabine, his wife’s name said, the Mehmet looked very good. That was the height to fall in his back like that. Admittedly, Mehmet was okay. An excellent footballer.
A reasonable boy, no drugs, no alcohol, a bit too old for bold taste.
“There’s only one God,” he had said when the conversation about football unexpectedly came to religion, “people worship him all in their own way, everywhere he has a different name, as well as the moon and the sun in each To change the language. ”
Who had said that to him? Certainly not the Iman. Anyway, it really was not that stupid. If the guy was just a Jens or an Otto, even a Bavarian Seppl would be acceptable, but just Mehmet. Kühne felt abandoned and helpless. Well, his wife would be back home. But his daughter, where she just stuck.

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Should he call Mehmet’s parents? He did not even know her phone number. What had Susy put on?
He would have to describe her clothes if he made a missing person report to the police.

Startled, he rejected this thought. Nevertheless, he was plagued by foreboding when he opened the door of his daughter’s room.
There was an envelope on her bed. Hastily, he tore it open and fished out a piece of paper, a page torn out of a notebook.
Dear dad, dear mum,
I moved to my new friend. Finally I realized that Mehmet is not the right one for me. I am sure that will make you happy. Now I have found the love of my life. The boy is really fantastic. His piercings, his tattoos and his great motorcycle have done to me. But not only that. I am pregnant and Adrian says we will be very happy in Berlin. He wants to have many children with me and that’s my dream too. I’ve noticed that marijuana does no harm to anyone and we plan to plant the weed on the balcony as a side income and of course for us and our friends because they provide us with cocaine as much as we want.

We pray that science will soon find a cure for AIDS so that Adrian will recover. Adrian believes that his human rights are grossly disregarded. He can not even go to the doctor, because otherwise the police caught him, because of a raid on a supermarket in Recklinghausen.
A cashier died. My Adrian was not to blame.
By the way, you do not need to worry about money. Adrian has persuaded his friends Leo and Boris to let me participate in the films they shoot in the basement. I earn 50 euros per scene. 50 more, if more than three men participate and 50 more, if a stallion is there. Do not worry Mom, I’m almost 16 and I can take care of myself.
In a few years, I will visit you to meet your grandchildren.

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Your dear daughter Susy
PS: Dad, Mom, that’s a joke. I’m at Verónica. We watch TV. I just wanted to show you that there are worse things in life than my grades. By the way, you are in my nightstand drawer.